


Busy Old Fool, Unruly Sun

by DoreyG



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Bitter threesome fic might come one day though, Cuddling, Dressing, F/F, Fantasies of nicer times, Kissing, Morning, Much nudity, Porn Battle, Still want these two to run away and join a lesbian commune, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 07:19:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“<i>Must</i> you go? The sun is barely over the horizon!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Busy Old Fool, Unruly Sun

“ _Must_ you go? The sun is barely over the horizon!”

The sun is steadily starting to creep over the horizon and that has been the third time Cosette has repeated her plea since she first tried to get up an hour ago. The past two times she’d given up, slumped back into warm sheets and warmer flesh with a fond sigh. This time, however, she gives a resigned shake of her head – rises fully and starts to dig for her dress upon the floor, “honestly, Cosette, it’s like you want to get us both killed.”

“…No,” her lovely lady love contradicts as she finally finds a crumpled ball of cloth that might once have been it, necessities a turn to face her fully as she speaks, “papa _wouldn’t_ kill us, I know him better than that-“

With the sheets pooling around her waist and her arms wrapped just under her creamy breasts Cosette is some vision akin to an angel. A pity that she can only spend a few moments staring before she has to yank the ball of cloth up and attempt to shove it over her head with some difficulty, “he wouldn’t kill _you_ , Cosette, I am still entirely in danger.”

“Eponine-!”

“Besides, Cosette,” the dress is a little big on her, the cut apparently become a little different in the course of a night – she has to twist and shove at her hips to get it all the way down, “I’m not _just_ taking about your father.”

“I…” Cosette considers for a long few seconds, as the dress hangs and hangs and _hangs_ \- “your parents, I suppose. Though I’m afraid that they’re philistines and would only really be worried if you were made of gold, my dear. That boy, Gavroche. Your friends at the café, perhaps, from what you tell me of them- Oh, and I think you’ve picked up my dress.”

Which had, indeed, helpfully fallen down halfway through. And revealed itself to be an entirely different creature from her usual rags – fine and fashionable, of a different cut and a different fabric that was baggy upon her yet still seemed determined to grab awkwardly at every scrap of skin. She stared at it balefully for a long few moments, ungrateful for the distraction – carefully picked at it, tugged at it, _yanked_ at it-

“And I think you’re going to rip it, if you carry on like that,” Cosette, luckily, amends swiftly. Is out of the bed in an instant – undoing her hands with a kiss and reversing the decision, leaving her easily bare again in a matter of moments, “there, my dear, as much as I like you wearing my clothes I think you look much better without them.”

“You flatter me, Cosette, but I still must go,” she sighs strictly in reply, allowing herself a second to lean closer into the naked warmth… And then reluctantly darting away again, dragging her eyes along the floor for a simple scrap of grey-blue, “for all the reasons you mentioned, before you got trapped. _Somebody_ is sure to miss me, whether it be the miracle of my parents or little Gavroche or even my friends at the café.”

“…If they were truly your friends they would want you to find love-“

“Ah, but the truer of my friends want another revolution and are about ready to strangle at another breath of love,” she smiles a little, but even the thought of Enjolras’ amusing rage is not enough to still her – over and over her eyes still keep sweeping the floor, coming up with nothing just as before, “it is complicated, Cosette, and you really must know. Even the most permissive of men would find it hard to like, even respect, that what exists between us. So please, Cosette, I must go – I would not see you locked up in a jail for me-“

“Eponine,” Cosette interrupts her, and she turns sharply with her mouth flying open to continue – is only stilled by the sight of her very own rags in those perfect hands, the resigned smile on Cosette’s face, “please, in return. It was under mine.”

She hesitates for a second, guiltily.

…She steps forwards, takes it apologetically from Cosette’s proffered hands and slides it awkwardly on over her head. It goes far smoother than Cosette’s grand dress, she tries not to take it as an indication towards her fated status.

Tries not to take many things, really, as she finally covers herself and is left only to stare at the still naked Cosette – her arms still crossed, her hair flopping over her shoulder and just covering a nipple, her mouth still curved in that resigned little smile that stabs at her heart every single time “…I’m sorry, Cosette. I only wish to protect-“

“I know,” she’s still not sure if Cosette using her understanding tone makes it better or worse. Sometimes she swears that the woman’s a saint, put on earth to make mere mortals swoon in her path and helplessly offer up all the treasures of the world, “I know. And I do understand that it’s complicated, and I do know what even the most permissive of men would think, and I _do_ know what it’d be to be locked up in a jail…”

“Because of your father,” she provides, with a certain sinking sense of horror going lower and lower in her belly, “oh, Cosette, I’m sorry-“

“Stop apologizing, my love” …It’s only stilled by a definitely better hand to her cheek, that resigned smile transforming into a slightly softer one upon Cosette’s angelic face, “I understand everything. I just wish that we could have more time together, that’s all.”

…She stares at Cosette for a long few moments.

Cosette smiles back, ever so calmly.

“You must know that I feel the same way,” and all the breath falls out of her in a long rush, she feels faintly like she’s flying and definitely like she’s falling, “don’t you, Cosette, _don’t_ you?”

“I wish that we were wed,” is Cosette’s only reply, an obvious enough one that has her giving a helplessly relieved smile and edging closer yet again to that brilliant radiance, “could live together legitimately, share a bed. I wish that I was your wife, could stroll around Paris upon your arm and retire quite openly at night. I wish-“

“That we could have a dog,” she provides in an awestruck tone, now so close that she can wrap her fingers around Cosette’s hip, “a nice room with a fireplace, where we could curl up all together and watch the flame crackle warmly at night.”

“And perhaps children, too,” hell, a hip? She takes in Cosette’s waist with her arm, tugs _her_ closer and closer yet until their foreheads bump and their lips have almost met, “two girls and a brave boy, I think they’d be nice. And they’d be warm, and dry, and never hungry. And they’d get the best toys and the best clothes. And they’re be _beautiful_ , the perfect mix of me and you and those that came before us.”

“Except on my side,” she laughs, and leans forwards to peck Cosette’s nose and make her giggle “…But oh, Cosette, wouldn’t it be good despite that?”

“Wonderful.”

“Amazing.”

“ _Perfect_.”

They draw in a breath, at exactly the same moment. Smile, at exactly the same moment. Lean in, closer and closer, again-

“A pity,” she repeats, as the cold of the real world sneaks back in, and gives Cosette one final peck on the lips before she has to lean back – let her perfect love go and slide into the spiky Eponine of the street and never the bed yet again, “but I suppose we can dream, yes? I suppose we can all dream dreams… See you around, Cosette, keep beautiful.”

“Everybody can dream,” Cosette whispers in her wake, eyes burning holes in the back of her head… Only makes her move at the last moment, tackling her back against the window for a ferocious kiss just before she opens it and reveals her Cosette’s breasts and stomach and perfect golden hair between her legs to the whole wide world, “and by around you mean _tonight_. Keep safe, my dreaming love, I’ll never speak to you again if you don’t.”

…And even though she must go, as the sun creeps higher and higher over the horizon, the stupid warmth stays happily with her for the whole day long.


End file.
